


And up in space I dreamt

by Ghelik



Series: Newcomers Verse [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Future Fic, Post-Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-17 11:54:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11274888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghelik/pseuds/Ghelik
Summary: Glimpses at the life of the space squad before they get captured by Marskru.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As requested by my lovely Anon back in Tumblr: a little expansion on the Newcomers!Verse.

Echo likes to sing. She has a beautiful singing voice, too: deep and vibrant. It carries through the ventilation system like a summer breeze. Everything in Echo's song is a reminder of Earth: the rhythm, the melody, the trig words.

 

Listening to it feels like intruding. Like that one time, he walked in on her praying, sitting cross-legged on the ground, a string of beads in her hand, eyes closed and symbols painted with ash on her brow and cheeks.

 

Bellamy has never prayed, and he has never sung. His life was spent in the constant need of keeping a low-profile. He couldn’t afford the close-knit community of the cult to the Tree, people equated danger of discovery, and that was a risk he just couldn’t take. Then he went down to Earth, and there wasn't much time for leisure, songs, religion or anything really. During the few months at the dropship, he spent every waking minute asserting his leadership, behaving in the commanding and authoritarian way the delinquents were used to. Giving them enough leeway for them to see him as better than the Arkers, but reminding them who was in charge. And then his delinquents were taken, and he spent the next months on the ground in a constant state of mild panic. Now he has free time. There's not much to do other than feel trapped and exhausted.

 

For the first month, Bellamy sleeps. Tucked away in the isolation cell, burying his nose into a pillow that has nearly lost her scent and dreaming of forests.

 

He lays in the tiny cot for hours, maybe days. Separating days in space is difficult. Bellamy is mildly aware of the fact that they should set the light-clocks that for a hundred years have made skaikru's nights, days and seasons. But nobody has done it yet, and he's too tired to care.

 

So he lays on the cot and listens to the strange music drifting in through the vent systems. For a while, he thinks he's hallucinating it. Then, one day he finds himself frowning up at the painted constellations on the ceiling. He’s curious for the first time in what feels like years.

 

It doesn’t take that long to find Echo in the algae farm: sitting cross-legged on the floor, a small hand-made drum between her knees.

 

"She says music makes plants grow faster," Raven, appearing at his elbow startles him nearly out of his skin. The mechanic looks fondly at the grounder. "Apparently she spent some time with relatives on a farm, before the Queen took her."

 

Bellamy feels a sudden pang of shame: Everyone has been up and about for a month and what has he been doing? Moping around, too tired to move, focusing on himself when the rest needed him. What a joke of a leader he is. What a way of dishonoring Clarke's sacrifice.

 

He presses his lips together, vowing to do better. To be better for his people and take care of them like he promised.

 

"Hey!" Raven shakes him out of his thoughts, her eyes sparkling. "Stop that!" The harshness in her tone makes him take stock of himself, trying to figure out what exactly he has to 'stop.' Raven shakes her head and adds, kinder: "You are allowed to take some 'you time,' you know? Some downtime. There's not much we can do for the next five years. This is the moment for you to... I don't know. Lick your wounds."

 

Bellamy rolls his eyes at her to try and hide the embarrassed blush creeping up his neck. "I'm fine, Raven. I..."

 

"The hell you are!" snaps the mechanic so loud she startles Echo. The grounder shuts up instantly her hands curling protectively around her drum like she's afraid they'll take it from her.

 

Raven grabs Bellamy's arm, pulling him back into the corridor with a hasty "Sorry Echo" that leaves him feeling like he's missing something. Of course, he is, he berates himself, he a whole month like...

 

He cuts the thought at the root, shying away from the anger and pain _that_ one name still provokes.

 

Raven closes the door to the farm and turns to him, her brows knit together, mouth set in an unhappy frown. "You are not fine," she says jamming an accusing finger into his ribs. "You haven't been fine in months and don't go around lying to me, Bellamy Blake, because I am not going to buy that bullshit a second longer."

 

He stares, mind reeling. It's disconcerting having someone so focused on him, watching him so intently and actually seeing him. Bellamy's used to only one person being able to see right through him and that person isn't here. Will never be here again.

 

Standing in the dimly lit corridor he feels naked and vulnerable, scrambling to get himself back together. He needs to be in control of himself because he has seen what he's capable of when he isn't.

 

Raven sighs. "Come with me."

 

They walk in silence down the corridors, lights blinking on as they pass. Finally, they reach the area Raven has turned into a makeshift workshop. She sits down by a half-built machine and instructs him to pick up a toolbox and hand her different tools.

 

She works in silence for a while. "Tell me about Gina," she asks suddenly, and his hands freeze around the box. The question - request - feels like a betrayal and for a moment anger curses like fire through his veins. Then he looks at Raven's somber face and remembers she was Raven's friend, too. And he might have known Gina longer, but that doesn't mean he's entitled to her memory.

 

"We played chess," he whispers, rearranging the screws in the tiny compartment at the bottom of the toolbox. "Before... Before they floated my mom. I needed to learn new games to entertain Octavia, so I asked her out. We fooled around for a bit, but then she wanted more time and..." And he couldn't give it to her because every second he spent on his life was a second Octavia would be alone, and bored and that was not fair. "I thought I would never see her again. But then the Ark came down, and after Mount Weather there she was."

 

He doesn't need to add anything else, Raven was there for that part, too. "She would ask after Octavia. Told me that, after they floated my mother, she tried to seek me out, but..." he shrugs. "She was a good woman and I... I let her down."

 

Raven has stopped working on the machine, rubbing absently at the scars along her forearms. "When she died," she says, not 'was killed' or was murdered,' "I should have been there for you."

 

Bellamy shakes his head.

 

"It doesn't matter."

 

"But it does. You're my friend, Bellamy. I knew you weren't ok, even when she was keeping you more or less together. And then she was gone and I..."

 

"You had your own shit to deal with."

 

"I was angry," she says. "And tired of the pain and..."

 

"I don't blame you for not being there, Raven. I understand."

 

Bellamy doesn't like the pity in the bottom of Raven's eyes when she finally looks at him. "Clarke had abandoned you. I shouldn't have done it too. And for that I am sorry."

 

He swallows, leans back against the wall and looks up. The ceiling is dark gray. "You want to talk about Finn?"

 

For him to think of Finn is to think of a lighter, happier version of Clarke. A spitfire, a rebel in her own right, a leader, so full of life and so powerful it took his breath away. He misses that part of her. He misses the girl that could fall asleep nearly everywhere, the girl whose laugh would ring through the whole camp, who would see through him and who had everyone wrapped around her little finger.

 

But Raven's memories of Finn are so much more. He never knew the boy his friend describes, never really talked to a version of him that had been nearly innocent - who was innocent really. He had tolerated the peacemaker in Finn, and had scoffed at the idealist Finn and had been kind of jealous of the joyous teen Finn. He never knew the caretaker or the friend he was to Raven. He's sorry he missed that.


	2. Chapter 2

The chair clatters loudly to the floor, leaving him hanging awkwardly from the opening in the ventilation shaft. This used to be a lot easier when he was a kid.

 

He tries to pull himself up, but he doesn't have enough upper body strength. For a moment he just hangs there, his shoulders straining and legs kicking.

 

“WHAT THE HELL!”

 

Bellamy’s voice startles him, and he falls in a messy heap. He curses when he lands on the chair, one leg digging painfully into his kidney. “What was that for?”

 

The older man is livid as he drags him up by the back of his worn shirt and for a terrifying heartbeat, Murphy’s convinced he’ll get a beating. Then he sees the panic in the depths of Bellamy’s eyes. “What were you doing!”

 

“I was just…” he pulls himself away from Bellamy and gestures to the open ventilation shaft. It takes him a moment to understand what Bellamy had seen: the fallen chair and him hanging. Something twists in his chest. “You don’t really think I’d hang myself, do you?” He tries to smile, but, now that he thinks about it, he can feel the phantom burn of the rope around his throat. “Come on, Bellamy. I didn’t survive all that to kill myself now. Give me some credit.” 

 

The other man still doesn’t look convinced, but the panic has receded from his eyes a little bit, and when he speaks, the fear isn't evident in his voice. “What were you doing?”

 

“I’ve got a stash over there” he points at the place on the wall. “Only way to get it is through there” he points at the ventilation shaft he was trying to climb. “If you give me a hand, I’ll share.”

 

Bellamy nods, and between the two of them, Murphy manages to pull himself up through the small tunnel.

 

He remembers spending hours up here when he was a kid, crawling through the Ark, spying on people and pretending to be part of some other family. It was easier to move through them back then.

 

He finds his duffle bag more or less where he remembered and then it is just a matter of crawling backward until he gets back to the opening. Bellamy’s there to catch him when he slides out.

 

Inside the duffle are half a book, his collection of oddly shaped and shiny metal pieces, he finds a sock with glass marbles he had traded from the kids in class; pieces of string; the letter he got from Jenny when he was seven and a half, asking if he wanted to be her boyfriend; her mother’s comb – the nice one, with the tiny star in the handle.

 

Murphy rummages through all the possessions that had once been so valuable to him, heart beating loudly in his ears.

 

Where is it? Where is it?

 

For a moment he fears he lost it.

 

His hand brushes the cardboard box and his heart leaps. The box is no longer than his pinky, and it’s nearly empty, but the phosphor bands on the side still smell, and when he opens it the matches are clean, red heads winking at him full of promises.

 

He presses the box to his nose, breathing the scent of it. He can nearly feel the fire, warm and inviting against his skin. See the blinding light, smell the burning wood.

 

When he opens his eyes, he sees Bellamy staring and a small part of him shivers in shame. Another is terrified that he’ll take the matches away. Fire was strictly forbidden up here and Bellamy’s the new chancellor or something. If he wants to, he’ll probably be able to take them from him.

 

“Must I worry that you’re going to set us in fire while we sleep?” Bellamy’s serious, but his tone’s soft, kind.

 

“Nah. Not really.”

 

“Good. If I wanted to die in a fire, I would’ve stayed on Earth.”

 

Murphy smiles, slipping the matchbox into his pocket. “A deal’s a deal. You can take whatever you want?”

 

And of course, he goes for the book. Half of it is missing, but there are a good hundred yellow pages for him to read.

 

“Is this any good?”

 

“Was my favorite book when I was a kid,” Murphy shrugs. It’s a compilation of short horror stories. The ending of one of them is missing, and he often wondered how it ended, had made up a hundred possible conclusions in his head. It was the most terrifying one, too, maybe because the mystery was never solved, perhaps because he’s always been a coward.

 

Bellamy smiles and sticks his nose between the pages, inhaling sharply. “I’ll give it back when I finish.”

 

Murphy wants to argue. He had said he could keep anything. Then again, this little stash of contraband is all that he has from his childhood and a tiny, impractical part of him really wants to keep it.

 

“Why did you hide this in the ventilation system? Why not in your family’s rooms?”

 

Murphy arches an eyebrow at him. For a moment he wants to snap something sassy and hurtful, these questions are way too personal for his taste. But then he remembers who he’s talking to.

 

For Bellamy his family’s quarters where the safest place on the Ark.

 

“My mom was not the loving type after I… After my father was floated. If I wanted to save something of mine from ending up sold, I had to hide it.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Murphy shrugs. “Not your fault.” He stashes everything back into his duffle bag. “Want to eat with ‘Mori and me?”

 

“Why don’t you join us in the hall?” asks Bellamy and the question is open and soft, not demanding or prodding or authoritative. Murphy feels like he has a choice, like Bellamy’s honestly just asking. And it would be nice to be surrounded by people. It gets a little bit lonely sometimes when it’s just Emori and him.

 

Murphy likes to listen to people, wants to be in a crowd – never the center of attention – but knowing they are there. He likes Raven and admires Bellamy. He doesn’t have much of an opinion on Harper or Monty, and he’d rather Echo wasn’t there at all – but at least she isn’t marked like the rest of Az-people he’s met, so he can tolerate her presence without feeling sick to his stomach.

 

“I’ll speak with Emori.”

  
Bellamy’s smile is open. It doesn’t reach his eyes, but it feels sincere nonetheless.

 

“Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still working through my stupid writer's block, but sometimes I manage to squeeze out some words. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading and commenting


	3. Chapter 3

Echo rubs the sweat off the palms of her hands on her pants and knocks on the closed door. It opens a moment later to reveal a frowning Bellamy.

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

She fights the urge to squirm, throwing her shoulders back and stilling her hands at her sides.

 

A warrior is always calm and in control.

  
“I’ve come to report.”

 

His frown deepens, but she doesn’t let that discourage her. It’s been over a month since she got to the Skaikru Citadel – the Ring – and she’s sick of not knowing where her place is, what her duties are.

 

Ever since she was five years old and Haiplana Nia took her from her aunt’s farm, Echo has known her place and her masters. But now she has neither, and it’s terrifying. Echo knows she’s in no position to make demands – a _splita_ , dishonored and cast out, alive only through the pity of these people – but uncertainty is killing her. She hasn’t had a night’s rest in the last forty-eight days, the constant fear that she’ll misstep at some point and they’ll throw her out of the citadel.

 

Back home being _splita_ meant living without the protection of a clan, being forced to scavenge and steal. Up here, if they throw her out, she’ll die. The _Skaikru-räv_ has told her about the _floating_ _ritual_. If they were to float her she would disappear, her soul lost in the darkness of the Infinite Void without anyone to pray for her to find the way to the Great Halls.

 

“Report what?” asks Bellamy, his voice thick and gruff. _What_ that is the question, isn’t it? Because she knows she needs to be useful to these people. Needs to show them they had a reason to bring her along. Yet what good could she possibly do at the Skaikru’s Citadel? She’s a spy, a weapon poised, an assassin in the shadows; a protector ready to die for King and Queen. Only there’s no enemy to slay, no threat to protect from and there never will be one, because they're alone in this vast blackness. Thus she’s useless.

 

“The status of things.” Her voice doesn't waver, but she can hear the weakness in the statement and vows to do better.

 

Bellamy must notice, too, because he arches a skeptical eyebrow even as he steps back and lets her into the room.

 

His quarters are small, decorated with black and gray pictures of the ground: forests, beasts, and cities like the ones depicted in picture-books back in the Winter Palace’s library. The ceiling has been decked in renditions of constellations. Echo wonders if he painted them himself. The whole thing is sparsely furnished: a small cot against one wall, an upturned box near the head of the bed doubling as a shelf a tiny desk and chair under a window. It’s the room of a soldier: neat and organized.

 

She stands beside the rendition of a forest clearing, fighting the urge to squirm once again under his dark-eyed scrutiny. Opens her mouth to start her report, but Bellamy beats her to it.

 

“You know you don’t have to give me any reports, right? I am not…” he shrugs at a loss for words.

 

The spy feels a growing sense of despair. Trampling on it she asks “Aren’t you Wanheda’s second?” Bellamy’s head snaps up, his eyes suddenly hard like she’s stepping out of line. “That makes you _skaikru’s heda_.”

 

He shakes his head, running a hand through his thick dark curls. “We are six people, Echo. I think we can do without the bloody hierarchy.”

 

She stares at him, his words making even less sense now that they did in the forest when he was trying to convince her not to shoot the rogue skaikru warrior – what good is a soldier unable to follow a command? – because even when he was looking at the rogue warrior, speaking of the losses of war, Echo knows a lot of what he said was aimed at her, as if she didn’t know what war could do as if she hadn’t been a weapon since childhood.

 

But this is different. One thing is to hear about the loss of war from a young, inexperienced soldier – Skaikru might have been mighty, but their warriors were as green as lily sprouts – another altogether is listening to a _heda_ dismissing the established order, even if it’s skaikru’s inexplicable lines of command. Then again, maybe this is a test? The High Spirits know Haiplana Nia loved those, would delight testing Echo’s loyalty to Azgeda and finding new and imaginative ways of punishing her for the smallest missteps.

 

Echo swallows, sets her shoulders back, and crosses her hands at her back, leaving her chest and neck exposed.

 

 _I am a dog at my master’s feet._ Haiplana Nia loved that sentence. One of the few times Echo had seen Roan furious was when she tried to use the same line with him as Haihefa. She has to tread lightly.

 

“I am at my master’s mercy,” she says instead.

 

If it is a test, Bellamy is one hell of an actor because he seems honestly taken aback. Then again, he’s not only Wanheda’s second but a skaikru spy, trained like her, to infiltrate defense lines and bring down enemies from the inside. She shouldn’t be surprised by his acting skills.

 

“Yeah, well…” he clears his throat and moves around the room a little like he isn’t sure what to do with himself. Echo watches and waits. “You…” the skaikru commander clears his throat. “There are no masters up here, so…”

 

“You are my master.” He turns to her like he’s been burnt, eyes hard and mouth set in a white line. Echo continues, slow and deliberate, detached. “I am indebted to you and…”

 

“Don’t do this, Echo.”

 

Why do these bloody skaikru people insist on not making any sense whatsoever? “…you brought me to the Citadel for a reason. I need to know what purpose I serve.” Oh, how she hates the pleading note that slips into her voice.

 

Bellamy splutters. “I brought you because the world was ending and I couldn’t just leave you there to die.”

 

She swallows. “There must be a purpose I can fulfill. Something.”  _Anything. Please!_ Echo doesn’t want to beg. She hated doing it back when Haiplana Nia held her leash and is loathe doing it again. When Roan became Haihefa, Echo thought she would finally have a kind master. Roan had always been a friend, kinder than his mother, more progressive, too. It’s humiliating, having tasted the life of a _tagon_ yon and having it torn away from her.

 

Bellamy rubs his face. “There’s plenty of stuff to be done, Echo.”

 

She nods. “I’ve been helping Raven Reyes” and why don’t these people have proper titles for their leaders? “with the el-ectri-cal wiring. Learning to tend to Monty Green’s algae on the farm. The cleaning of the spare rooms is well underway, and under Harper McIntyre, I’ve been organizing salvageable goods.”

 

“There you have it.”

 

“Is that to be my purpose now?” she can hear the hopeful note in her voice and corrects the slip instantly. “To be a helping hand for skaikru proper?”

 

She can deal with it. It’s only a small step down from her position as Haiplana Nia’s _notagon_ blade.

 

Bellamy blinks at her “Skaikru proper?” He pulls on the hair in the back of his neck. “Echo… “ He huffs a tired sigh. “You are part of our Kru now.”

 

The conversation is over, and she knows it. “I won’t bother you anymore,” she forces a soft smile on her lips and moves to the door. For a moment she thinks Bellamy will stop her, will clarify… something. But he doesn’t, and she leaves, wandering down the creepy metallic corridors to her own sleeping quarters.

 

Her sleep is as light as it has been ever since coming to the Ring and she wakes as tired as she was the day before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... maybe she'll have more luck with Raven, am I right? *wink wink*
> 
> So..., that was an expositional dump XD But we know so little of Echo and I want to know so much! 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and commenting! :D
> 
> Trig words:  
> Tagon- Name  
> Tagonyon - lit "Person with name" as opposed to:  
> Notagon - lit "no name"  
> Haiplana - queen  
> Haihefa - king


	4. Chapter 4

Raven grunts when her back hits the metal floor. She’s breathing hard, her hands and feet tingling from the exertion, her heart hammers against her ribs.

 

“Did it do the trick?” asks Echo, crouching next to her and looking down at the mechanic with chocolate brown eyes. She can only nod at her, a lazy smile spreading across her lips. The warrior’s eyes flit over her face with a sort of intensity that makes something in Raven’s belly flutter. For a moment the mechanic is sure she will bend down and kiss her. Then the moment passes, Echo looks away, cheeks flushed and a muscle in her jaw ticking. Raven tries not to feel disappointed.

 

 She rolls to the side, pushing back up to her feet, testing her bad leg to see if it will hold her.

 

The warrior has been teaching her to fight every day for three months. She appears whenever Raven is starting to get frustrated with the ever-growing list of things that need fixing for them to be able to go back to earth. 

 

Echo came out of nowhere once and told Raven she needed to get rid of all the excess energy, and offered herself as a sex-partner. Raven declined. Stress-sex hadn't been that great with Wick, no need to make things awkward with one of the other six people she's currently sharing a very reduced living space. 

 

Echo offers her a bottle. The water is sour and tastes like rust. They all try not to think where it comes from.  Raven watches the warrior dry the sweat from her neck and shoulders with a rough towel. Her skin looks pale and gray around the edges, the hair darker and her eyes sunken and rimmed in bruise-like shadows.

 

“How are you doing?”

 

Echo shifts lightly on her feet. She shrugs one shoulder. “Just fine. Wishing these five years could go by quicker.” Her nonchalance falls slightly short.

 

“Are you managing to sleep a little more?”

 

She smiles at the mechanic and lies: “Yes.” They watch each other for a moment and then Echo bows her head. “I’ll see you later.”

 

Raven tries not to feel dismissed. Tries not to care that Echo is keeping herself at arms-length.

 

She sighs and goes back to her room to change out of her sweat-soaked clothes.

 

The mechanic tells herself there’s nothing she can do. She tried to open up to Echo, to make her feel more welcome in the Ring. And, for a while, it seemed to work, they got closer. Echo started sharing stuff about her past, nothing major, just small details. She spoke about the farm where she spent the first few years of her life. Spoke of Queen Nia and how she ‘hand-reared’ her. 

 

Raven, in turn, told her about the Ark and Finn and how she hurled herself down to earth in a hundred-year-old bucket held together with duck tape and faith.

 

And then, suddenly, Echo just… stopped opening up and wouldn’t let Raven get any closer. The mechanic isn’t sure why, and it’s as frustrating as all the other problems she cannot seem to find a solution to.

 

The routine continues, Echo fetches her every day without fail, and walks beside her, nearly close enough to touch, but not really. They go through the warm-up movements, Echo teaches her attacks and defenses, and then they spar.

 

Raven never thought she would like sparring, much less with her bum leg, but it’s fun, like solving a puzzle. Echo always goes easy on her, she knows, telegraphing her movements and moving slowly.

 

After, the mechanic is usually giddy and high on endorphins. But it doesn’t feel like it did before Echo started pulling away, which is shitty. Raven really likes her.

 

“Did I do something wrong?” she asks before she loses her nerve.

 

The spy cocks her head. “Other than  forgetting your guard, you mean?”

 

Raven purses her lips. “I _mean_. Did I say something that offended you? Or, I don’t know, are you mad at me?”

 

The warrior stares at her with chocolate brown eyes. She doesn’t move for a moment and lies: “No.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

A small eyebrow crawls up Echo’s face. “Beg pardon?”

 

“You heard me.”

 

“I did, but I do not know what you’re implying.”

 

“Don’t lie to me. I know something is bothering you. If it is my fault, I want to know what I did.”

 

“You didn’t do anything.”

 

“You’ve been distant. For the last two weeks, you’ve been distant; you no longer sit with me in the dining room. And you don’t speak to me anymore.”

 

Echo stares at the wall behind Raven’s left shoulder. “I wasn’t aware it bothered you.”

 

“Bullshit. Look at me!”

 

Her eyes snap up to her face. The mechanic noticed a while back that Echo always follows a direct command. Raven usually tries not to take advantage of that. “I’ll aim to improve…”

 

“Echo. Don’t aim to improve anything. Just. Tell. Me. What. The fuck. Is. Wrong.”

 

There’s a moment of silence. “I found myself aiming above my station. This” she makes a vague gesture between the two of them, “is not proper. I am trying to restore the order.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because it’s _wrong_.”

 

Raven crosses her arms over her chest, jutting her chin out in defiance. “And why is that?”

 

Echo stares at her some more, and finally, something in her seems to snap. “Because I find myself with the desire to slam you against a wall and fuck you into next week.” She throws her towel to the side, rakes her nails through her hair with a frustrated growl.

 

Raven blinks at her. “And you’re not doing that, because…”

 

“Because you’re second in command on this vessel and I am a No-Tagon spy, who should not be disrespecting its superiors with her neediness or unwarranted infatuation.”

 

Raven frowns. “But you already offered me sex.”

 

“That is different.”

 

“How so?”

 

Echo huffs like it’s the stupidest question she’s ever heard. “Because I would be doing a service to my superior. Not because I _wanted_ to.” She takes a deep breath. “There is an order to things.”

 

Raven tries not to feel horrified at her words. “So if I told you I want to have sex with you, you’d do it. But if you want to, you just… what? Shut up and remove yourself from the situation?”

 

Echo’s shoulders sag. She smiles. “Exactly. That is my place.”

 

Raven runs her tongue over her teeth. After a moment she drops to the floor. “What is the ranking?” she asks, trying to put her thoughts in order.

 

“Bellamy is the commander. You’re his second. Monty is a general. Harper would be your soldier and then foxes.”

 

“With you coming in at the end?”

 

“I am No-Tagon, Raven.”

 

The mechanic plays with the straps on her brace. “I don’t know what that means.”

 

“It means I have no name. I am what my master wishes me to be.” She shrugs a shoulder. “Which, granted, has kept me close to the crown and in positions of power until now. But…” 

 

“What do you mean, you have no name? Sure you do.”

  
Echo frowns at Raven like she's stupid. “Echo is not a name. It’s my position as an Azgeda Spy.”

 

Raven works her jaw. “So… It would be like you calling me Mechanic?”

 

The warrior nods her head. “Yes, exactly.”

 

“And you don’t know your name?”

 

“I never got one. I am No-Tagon as per Queen Nia’s decree.”

 

The mechanic frowns. “Why?”

 

The woman shrugs. Then bites her lower lip and sits down next to Raven. She’s so close the mechanic can feel the heat radiating from her. Echo’s voice is but a whisper like she’s telling her a big secret: “I am the last of the royal line. I was born from Haihefa Josh’s mistress. Haiplana Nia took me into her care when I was old enough to pick up a blade and made me loyal to the crown.”

 

Raven stares some more, frowning. “So… You are Roan’s sister,” the word still feels strange on her tongue. The myriad ways the grounders can be related to each other is incredibly weird. On the Ark, you either were someone’s son, or you weren’t related at all.

 

Echo gives her an impish smirk Raven can’t help but find incredibly cute. “He’s my half-brother. But it’s a secret.” And then the warrior giggles. “I had never said those words aloud before.”

 

“You wanna repeat them?”

 

There’s a beat and then: “He’s my half-brother. Roan is my half-brother.” She sobers so suddenly; Raven nearly has whiplash. “Roan _was_ my brother, and I let him get killed. I failed him. I failed my people. I…” she’s staring at the metal floor with unfocused eyes. “I… He banished me. I have no name and no home. And…”

 

“Hey,” whispers Raven, feeling uncertain and inadequate, she’s not equipped to deal with this shit. “Hey” but still she puts her arms around the grounder’s shoulders, and presses her against her chest with all her strength. “You do have a home; your home is with us now. We’re your new clan, Kru,  whatever. Ok?”

 

Echo shakes in her arms, sobbing silently against her. She can feel the tears soaking through her shirt. Raven holds her until long after she’s stopped crying.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a very tiny snippet that really doesn't contain all that much of anything, but I like it

Raven isn’t anywhere close to repairing the rocket than she was two years ago, but, in the meantime, she has taken care of pretty much everything else that needed fixing on this dump that is the ring. Now, to vent her frustration, she starts building stuff with the spare parts Emori and Murphy bring her. So far she’s made a small radio-controlled car for Murphy to play with; a pressure regulator to help Monty with his distillery – they’re all in dire need of moonshine-; a small welding machine for Harper to use in her constant inspection of the ventilation-shafts; and a sewing machine for Bellamy – who was so overwhelmed when she gave it to him, he didn’t come out of his room for a week.

Now she’s working on a small, portable music player. Ever since she discovered the memory drives containing all of the Ark’s multimedia entertainment, she’s been trying to get a way to access it and enjoy it.

She really wants to see Echo’s face the first time she gets to see a movie, but first, she’ll conform herself to just music. It’s been nearly three years since she last heard Arkadian music and it’s nothing against Echo’s singing, or the drumbeats Harper and Emori sometimes play, but… They had electric guitars up in the Arc. And, ok, Emmet did play the piano salvaged from Mount Weather a few times in Arkadia’s canteen. But that too was over two years ago.

The little screen on his newly built music-player lights up. Raven grins as she copies a few files from the primary hard drive. It looks like it’s time to organize a girls night.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could've tried to write the conversation in trig. But I decided to put everything in trig in italics instead.

There is much to do in space and Emori finds her days filled with menial tasks, like sorting scrap, and exciting jobs, like helping Raven _outside_. She enjoys her quiet life in the ring; appreciates the fact that she feels lighter, that she’s safe and, well, not well fed, but fed. She enjoys Raven’s company, enjoys being able to seek other people out. Loves that they don’t dismiss her for her flaws and trust her with meaningful work.

 

And still, she misses Earth. Misses the feeling of dirt under her feet, misses the variety of smells and the changing weather, misses fire and clouds and the feeling of precious rain on her cheeks, the crackling of the trees and the rumbling of kru speaking trig.

 

Maybe that’s why she paints the complicated hopscotch Otan taught her on the floor of an empty storage room. Now and then, when the strangeness of the space station gets to her, Emori comes into the storage room and jumps around the hopscotch, singing the silly songs her brother taught her.

 

_My little lamb fell down a well_

_And it broke its leg._

_Mama told me to fetch the lamb_

_So down I climb_

_Into the well_

_Into the well_

 

 

“Can I come in?”

 

Echo’s sudden presence at the door has Emori jumping a foot in the air.

 

“What were you doing there?” grumbles the scavenger, feeling silly under Echo’s cold, calculating gaze.

 

Emori and the az-woman haven’t had that much contact outside of the occasional “girl nights” Harper and Raven insist they have every once in a while. They usually don’t interact, and whenever they are in the same room, the grafter can feel the other woman’s judging eyes on her.

 

Echo shrugs. “I heard the song.” The spy slithers into the room, scanning the hopscotch. “We used it as a clapping game when I was little. We could never have sullied the queen’s floors like that.”

 

Emori presses her lips together, throws her shoulders back and refuses to be intimidated by some ex-warrior who was exiled from her clan. Bellamy says they’re all equal up here. Echo has no right to come and make threats.

 

“This room is mine,” she growls, and the spy’s dark eyes snap up. She frowns slightly, takes a step back. It looks like she wants to say something. Then thinks better of it and turns to leave, but doesn’t. Just stands with her back turned to Emori.

 

“ _I miss having someone to talk trig with_ ,” the spy says in the grounder language. “ _I thought, maybe… You did too_?”

 

“ _What has that to do with anything_?” Emori can’t quite understand where this is coming from, but Echo turns to her.

 

“ _Would you play the clapping game with me_?”

 

She can’t be sure in the dim light near the door, but it looks like the warrior is blushing and, maybe the tense line of her shoulders is less animosity than uncertainty. The spirits know Emori’s seen that same countenance a hundred times in Murphy.

 

The fact that Echo and Murphy could have something in common gives her pause. She doesn’t dismiss the other woman instantly like she wants to. Instead, she raises her gloved hand arching an eyebrow.

 

“ _I don’t think I would be any good at clapping games._ ”

 

“ _There is no need for dexterity in that game. It’s just”_ Echo mimes a few of the movements, clapping her hands and then beating the air in front of her slowly _“movement. Might help you strengthen your reflexes.”_

“ _Why are you doing this?”_

 

Echo shrugs again; looks down. “ _I don’t know._ ”

 

“ _So you’d spend your time with a_ frikdreina _? What would the warriors of your clan think?”_ Emori isn’t sure why she's so antagonistic with Echo. It’s not like the woman ever did anything to her. And, since she spent most of her time in the desert, she didn’t have that much contact with Azgeda. The only connection she ever had with anyone from her clan was Roan, and the Az-King was not the worst. He even praised her and Murphy’s skills – her scouting and his cooking, to be precise.

 

“ _My clan seems to accept you just fine. And, come on, have you seen the warriors of this clan? They’re pitiful._ ”

 

The grafter arches an unimpressed eyebrow. Echo does have a point, but she isn’t about to admit that. _“Doesn’t my presence turn something in your stomach?”_

 

The spy purses her lips. “Nan frag en räv op.”

 

This does tear a laugh out of Emori. “ _You think I am a fox?_ ” she laughs again. “ _I think that is the first time_ fousen kru _has complimented me.”_

 

Echo stares at Emori for a long moment. “ _I think,”_ she says slowly _“you are_ fousen kru _now. You’re part of spacekru.”_

 

Emori takes a step back. “ _You don’t even like me. You don’t trust me_ ” she spits, because this is a trick, and the spy must think she’s stupid to believe someone who hasn’t exchanged three sentences with her since they came to the Ring has her in such high regards. Echo wants something. Something other than to speak trig. Emori doesn’t know what that is, but she’s not fooled. “ _Whatever you want, spy, speak plainly._ ”

 

“ _I want nothing._ ”

 

“ _I’ve seen you watching. Always there, watching._ ”

 

Echo rolls her tongue over her teeth. “ _Of course I’ve been watching. You haven’t been training in your fighting skills. You are Raven’s right-hand. You have many useful skills…_ ” She bites her bottom lip and fixes her intense stare on a point on the wall opposite from her. “ _And in this place you’re… The only one who… You remind me of my kru. You and I have more things in common than…_ ”

 

“ _We have nothing in common._ ” Whatever it is Echo wants to use her for, she’ll have nothing of it. “ _You were raised in a clan; you had a purpose. I was shunned by my kru. I was chased into the wild and only survived through my own merits. Everything you had…_ ”

 

“ _Bellamy says you had a brother?_ ”

 

The non-sequitur makes her stumble out of her righteous anger. “ _What?”_

_“You had a brother, before Praimfaya.”_

 

Emori presses her lips together. _“Otan. He died._ ”

 

Echo nods her head. “ _I saw him. In the City of Light._ ”

 

“ _I was there, too,”_ growls the scavenger. “ _Whatever it is you think you have, I don’t want it._ ”

 

Echo runs her tongue over her bottom lip. It looks like she’s swallowed something awful when she finally says. “ _I want information on my king. You spent the last few days of his life with him._ ”

 

“ _He was a pompous ass who nearly sacrificed Murphy and me._ ”

 

Echo swallows and turns to leave. “ _Sorry to have bothered you._ ”

 

And something in the way Echo’s eyes shine, or maybe in the downturn in the corner of her eyes has Emori stopping her.

 

“ _You loved your king._ ”

 

“ _He was my king. In my eyes, he could do no wrong.”_ Emori frowns. Those words… she has said those words to Murphy when talking to Otan. And maybe Echo overheard and is still playing her. Trying to manipulate her into doing her bidding. But, maybe... Perhaps she's honest. Perhaps she did love her king, and maybe there’s something else there, other than respect and fealty sworn to a leader.

 

“ _I don’t play clapping hands. I play hopscotch_.” Maybe she's the biggest fool in the world. Still, she picks up the small button and walks to the start. “ _Come, I’ll teach you. And you can teach me that silly hand-waving-nonsense._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Echo continues to hijack this stupid story.   
> Trig words:   
> frikdreina - freak/mutant  
> Nan frag en räv op - Wouldn't kill a fox  
> fousen kru - reall/propper clan member 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and commenting


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set one month after they arrive at the ring.   
> Yes. Echo continues to hijack this story. I'm not even mad anymore, just impressed by how much I love her.

“What do you mean cups?” Echo and Emori exchange a confused look.

Harper and Raven have called them excitedly to one of the storage rooms, proudly proclaiming they’ve found a box of cups like there was a shortage of drinking recipients. Which, since she’s been to the kitchens many times in the month since they arrived at the space-sta-ti-on.

“We mean lady-cups,” says Harper producing a rather small, rubber container with no foot. It looks like an oddly-shaped miniature drinking horn. “I was starting to worry; I misplaced mine somewhere in Arkadia.”

“I didn’t misplace it, I just plain-forgot to pack it,” laughs Raven. “Fortunately for Harper found a box full of them. Which is way more than we need, but, I dunno. We can take it back to the ground when we get there.

Echo shares another look with Emori. The younger woman looks as baffled as she feels.

“What is that for?” the scavenger asks.

Harper blushes furiously. “For, you know. _Those days_.”

“Those days in which you’re not thirsty?” Echo bites her tongue, but it’s too late to take the words back. Fortunately, none of the women seem to find her answer offensive. Raven barks a startled laugh.

“These are for your menstruation,” she proclaims shamelessly, much to Harper’s mortification. Emori touches the cup with a finger of her glove-less hand.

“You mean… You stick them _inside_ you?” she asks skeptically.

“That feels unhygienic,” comments Echo, touching it with unease. It’s soft, almost velvety so. She had a silken shawl once, the most expensive thing she ever owned, it is as soft as the shawl was. When she squeezes it with two fingers, it folds easily.

“It’s one of the most hygienic things for these matters,” Harper launches in a mortified explanation as to why this is an excellent solution to their ‘monthly problems.’ By the end of it, Emori looks less skeptic, taking a small box from Raven, who explains in a less roundabout way how she can use it.

Then Harper offers another box to her, but Echo raises her hands. “I don’t need it.”

“Come on, don’t be like that.”

Echo watches the box. She could take it, and nobody would be the wiser. But they said they wanted to bring these cups back, and down there could be someone who could really use it.

“It is the truth.”

Raven looks at her with narrowed eyes. Harper is a little more oblivious, a little kinder and naïve. “It’s no big deal.”

“I don’t have monthly cycles.” She has to prevent herself from touching the old scar on her lower abdomen. Harper goes white. “I am so sorry! I didn’t know!”

“It’s quite alright, Harper. You can keep mine for the people in the bunker.”

“Ok.”

After that, they drift apart: Harper and Raven walking together and Emori scurrying away spirits know where.

Echo wanders around the ship, not sure what she’s supposed to do. Every morning they have a meeting in the appointed mess hall in which Raven and Monty go down the list of work that needs to be done, and Bellamy assigns it. The spy makes sure to finish hers as quickly and efficiently as possible, making sure she’s of as much use as possible.

But today this means she has nothing to do, and idle minds tend to wander, which, is the last thing she needs right this instant. The lights flicker, and Echo feels her body vibrating with tension. She can smell the stench of the reapers, hiding in these tunnels, can hear their voices growling, their hulking figures moving in the darkness. Her heart is in her throat. This is a trap, and she knows it, but Haiplana Nia ordered her team to inspect the reaper-tunnels, to see if it was a viable route for an invasion of trikru territory, and Echo can’t go against Haiplana’s wishes.

Something clangs, the noise traveling through the metal walls. Her heart hammers in her chest. “Hosh op, Tantai!”

She looks behind her at the young warrior. But he isn’t there. “Tantai!” she whispers, her grip tightening around her sword. There’s a light at the end of the corridor, like a small star embedded in the wall. She creeps towards it. The wall is made of metal. A door. Beside it the little light.

Curious she touches it. Nothing happens. She tries the door, but it doesn’t budge. Maybe it’s rusted shut? She turns away from the dead-end, creeping back. And right into a snarling reaper: bloodshot eyes, blood-covered beard, white markings around its eyes. It’s cold claws close around her shoulders. Echo freezes. The monster drags her back. Back towards the door and the little firefly stuck to the wall. Except, harsh white light streams from the door and horrifying beasts walk towards her: formless, faceless, with slick claws and crinkly skin. They’re dragging her towards the white light and Echo knows that if it swallows her, she’ll never see the sky again. Echo scream and trashes against their grip.

“Easy there,” the monsters purr.

The grip of one of them slips, and she manages to get one arm free. She punches the other with all her might. “Echo! It’s me!”

She blinks. The light is the same, but the halls aren’t made of stone. There are strangers speaking _gonasleng_ , but they’re not faceless monsters.

She blinks again. Raven lays on the floor, holding a bloody nose. Where did she come from?

Her heart hammers harshly against her chest. Her hands shake uncontrollably.

“Hey.” Raven sits up; her voice comes nasal and clogged. “Look at me. You are safe, ok? You’re on the Ring. You’re safe.”

Echo swallows. Battle nightmares. She’s having battle nightmares. A month in and she’s having battle nightmares.

She stares at Raven, who looks weary.

She attacked a superior.

“Hey, Echo. You with me?” She nods her head, not trusting her voice. “Ok.” She rubs her face. The bleeding has subsided a little. “Wanna talk about it?” Echo shakes her head. Raven doesn’t push. “Ok.” There is a pause. “Come on. Let’s get out of her.”

Echo wanders behind the woman, still slightly disoriented and scared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and commenting.

**Author's Note:**

> As always this was unbetad. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and commenting
> 
> If you have any prompts for this verse, don't hesitate to throw them my way. :P


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